Ingrid had been largely silent on the journey from Fjellborg to Byrdain. This silence, though, was far from one of resignation. Ingrid quietly glowered. At that moment in time she would have loved to wring the neck of the Crown Prince. This was an insult to her and her people, it didn't take a scholarly master to figure that one out. Marry the only daughter to the second, sickly prince. Marriage to the eldest wold have been less of an insult. Not by much, but at least the man could fight. Much of her anger had been directed at Jorvik, who at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable on the journey. There were items that would need to be repaired, some that would have to be discarded entirely. To say Ingrid hadn't been happy when her father agreed to the engagement would be an understatement.
"How could you?" She pulled Jorvik back as he walked away from her. "How could you agree to that?" she asked, throwing her arm to the hall where the meeting had happened. "Lelinus is not worthy."
There had been few times Ingrid had ever seen Jorvik truly enraged. Never had she been on the receiving end of it. "The Gods allowed him to live to see this day. He is of royal blood and he is worthy."
"This is an insult to our people. To me."
"You are marrying the boy and that is the end of it. No matter how insulted you might feel."
Jorvik turned and walked away. Ingrid stood and watched him go. She looked to Tyr for some guidance, comfort, anything. Her brother simply shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it briefly before going after Jorvik. It was easier for them, she realised, to not think. It was easier for everyone. If they didn't think too hard about it, all they would see was an alliance for peace. Do not think about the slight.
In her room, Ingrid let herself go to the rage. She locked herself in and near destroyed everything. When she was done, her bedding was torn, daggers were embedded in the walls. Furniture had been turned on its head, trinkets lay scattered along the room. Anything breakable was now reduced to shards and dust. Ingrid breathed deeply, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She wasn't calm, not by a long way, but she wasn't about to murder the first person who walked through her door. Nothing here mattered anymore. This room was just that. A room. She held no more claim over it. It was holding until she was handed to Byrdain.
Ingrid was dressed in leather that had yet to see battle, as per the custom of her people. She might be about to be put on show for these people, an oddity to scrutinise, but she was not them. She would not bow to them. Gods be damned if she relinquished her pride. As they rode, Ingrid eased her horse to a stop. She dismounted and headed into the long grass. "The Gods," she said quietly. She let her palms run over the top of the grasses, her eyes closed. She breathed deeply, taking in the earth as it ran free.
"Please hear my prayer. I walk to a battle unfamiliar to me. I am always your faithful servant. Guide my hand as you see fit and grant me your blessing in this new land." She bowed deeply as she finished talking. She wasn't expecting a miracle, but a little protection wouldn't hurt if they saw fit to favour her.
Ingrid mounted her horse and rejoined the group. A handful of beserkers who could be trusted not to start an incident had joined Ingrid, Jorvik and Tyr. Ingrid kept her horse close to Tyr's. "It will not be as bad as you think," Tyr said, "you will be royal to them. They will not touch you."
"It's not them touching me that worries me. Lelinus might break if I look at him the wrong way."
Tyr laughed, "I'm sure the lad has a strength we have not yet seen." Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "He will be good to you Ingrid. He's too delicate to do anything else."
They rode into Byrdain, dismounting at the stables. The beserkers with them soon disappeared to join the festivities. Let them go, Ingrid thought, they deserve their fun. She could feel eyes on her, scrutinising her again. She was certainly far from what they thought a princess should be, Ingrid knew that much. She followed Tyr to the doors of the hall. Jorvik had gone to speak with Artos. His part was done in all this in making sure she made it to Byrdain. As her patron, it was Tyr's duty to hand her to Lelinus.
"Shall we?"
Ingrid nodded, steeling herself. "We shall."